So there I was at age eight or nine or something, suddenly discovered to be nearsighted and condemned to wear refractive devices otherwise known as eyeglasses for the rest of my life. Balancing eyewear on one's nose and behind the ears was not comfortable back then because these were still the years when eyeglasses were made of what they sound like: Glass. The stronger the prescription, the thicker and heavier the glass lens on each side of the frame.
Years later when I entered the Air Force prescriptions were handled through military clinics, and at one point I was issued a standard pair of eyeglasses with dark plastic frames; actually, standard military eyeglass frames were only of one color, while the esteemed pilot class was awarded those dapper metal-framed aviator sunglasses (refer to "Top Gun" and other military motion pictures).
Though standard military eyewear remained common among servicemen and women, the occasional person daring to break away and actually become an individual when eyeglasses became an issue in the late 1960s and early seventies began privately purchasing wire-rimmed and metal-framed glasses echoing the eyewear so popular among sixties street radicals and anti-Vietnam conflict protesters. This is hard to believe by today's standards, I know, but back then wearing such eyewear was considered subversive by many military personnel possessing the clout to administer punishment of a subtle nature. A crime for wearing eyeglasses! The military services, you see, don't cater well to individuality.
As other airmen and WAF (Women's Air Force) members slowly, ever so slowly procured their own subversive eyewear, even I got into the act, going into town and ordering, first, a simple pair of high-prescription glasses set in gold metal frames. However, it wasn't long before I dared to step up and ordered a gold frame with somewhat rectangular lenses reflecting a light blue tint.
I was stationed at that time in a large Texas Air Force hospital, and one day of just a few when I wore the blue eyeglasses to work our clinic learned that the hospital commander, a "full bird" colonel and physician, was about to visit our clinic. Immediately, I sparked a self-internal panic, fearing his reaction when he encountered eyeglasses so out of the ordinary that only a severe beating in some military prison would teach me a lesson.
As rumored that morning, in walked the colonel with a small military entourage, and as they moved from airman to section to airman I froze in place, awaiting my doom. Suddenly, the colonel spotted me, coming to a full stop and then approaching me slowly, sort of like when a predatory animal is about to pounce on its prey.
He took an uncomfortably prolonged look at my face, following up with the words, "Those blue glasses. . ." I cringed deep inside, expecting the worst.
"Well, they're really very nice," advised the colonel. "My son has a pair just like them."
No, I did not crap my pants, but you can imagine effects of the element of surprise. The blue glasses would live to help me see another day. My unintended government subversion was vindicated, and while my ever-strengthening eyeglass prescription has precluded me from wearing them ever again, I still have them as a souvenir of the era, a time when something as simple as a pair of eyeglasses could mark one as a public enemy. Strange but true.
Decades have passed. Contact lenses were always out of the question (a favorite ophthalmologist once told me he couldn't wear "the damned things" either) and eye pressures prevent me from any involvement with lasers. Yet, like life itself, time goes on and suddenly a new word crops up in one's personal vocabulary.
Cataracts.
I knew I had them, but for years I was told they were insignificant. But now, as a I seek yet a new eyeglass prescription I am told, sure, we'll do what we can with a new script, but you really need to have the cataracts removed. The good news? Cataract removal and artificial lens placement has become so refined over the years that one eye can be done in 10 minutes in the office.
Turns out that the new prescription works fine, but the realization that cataracts can get worse without warning keeps it all real. Maybe in another year or so I'll have the procedure done -- though I did ask the doctor whether there was some procedure I could locate on the Internet showing me how to scoop the cataracts out by myself. She highly discourages this idea, though she did offer the historical fact that ancient Egyptians removed their people's cataracts with needles! Eye infections post-"surgery" were common, however. I vow not to have my cataracts removed in Egypt, and certainly not by the wisdom of optical mummy knowledge.
On the bright side, I started thinking, this is great! At long last I can go to a store of my choice and with renewed 20/20 vision can purchase the sexiest, hottest sunglasses on the market, thereby allowing me to attract the most desirable people in the world into my life!
But then reality set in. Being way, way, way past the age of personal magnetism, even with the best sunglasses in the world I'm destined to draw in only old dogs and their fleas. How sad, how pathetic, how. . .wait a minute. Are there such things as flea circuses? Hmm. Maybe when those dogs become attracted to me and I possess new eyesight I can grab a few fleas and train them for a flea circus. I mean, it's not out of the question. Politicians create flea circuses every day and their circuses perpetuate with nary ever so much as one flea in the flesh, but obviously the itchy effects of fleas on the nation by the score are widespread.
Maybe this flea circus thing could work out after all. If it only takes renewed vision and a few fleas procreating endlessly to keep the circus going, I'm in.
